


You're Driving Me Wild

by Lovelove363



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, First Time, M/M, zarry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-08 08:09:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7749970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovelove363/pseuds/Lovelove363
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>~Loosely inspired by Troye Sivan's Blue Neighbourhood~</p>
<p> A short story about childhood best friends who have just become more, and must now figure out the rest of their lives.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <img/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Harry loves Zayn. He isn't afraid of it either, not when he can look into his best friend's eyes and see the entire world looking back at him. Not when his innocent heart beats so recklessly, so purely in his chest, seemingly invincible. 

"Let's run away." He proposes, as they trudge home along the winding suburban sidewalk, beneath the buzzing street lights. 

"We will, one day." Zayn's mischievous smile breaks through his permanent scowl.

A sullen, angst ridden teenager, perpetually circled with smoke; Zayn tries to hide his naive youth from the world, but Harry still sees it, can still see the rosy cheeked boy with whom he'd explored every inch of their blue neighborhoods as a child, sword fighting with sticks and racing their wooden sailboats in the murky pond. 

He reaches over to tousle Zayn's long raven hair. "We'll be graduating this year, can't think of a better time."

Zayn huffs. " _You'll_ be graduating this year, my grades are so shit I might as well fuck off for the rest of the semester." He pats his empty pockets in search of a pack, disappointed.

Silence ensues for a few houses, as Harry chooses his words carefully. In unfamiliar company, he'd feel rushed, worried he'd lose his turn to speak, but Zayn knows well enough to wait patiently. 

"You're brilliant Z, probably the smartest guy I've ever met. If you just tried, you could still make it."

"For what? So they'll hand me a fancy piece of paper and shake my hand? I don't need their approval man, I don't need to prove myself to anyone." Zayn kicks a discarded can along the sidewalk, punctuating his sentences with loud clanks. "The whole system is fucked, you get that right? Who are these people to decide my future? What gives them the power? I read more books than anyone in my class right, but I don't give a shit about Shakespeare, so apparently I'm bad at English. I can do mental math in my head faster than most people can use a calculator, but I refuse to waste my time on the Pythagorean Theorem, so apparently I'm bad at math. I hate them, Harry. I hate everyone." He feels his eyes begin to swell with tears, shuddering out a long sigh. "Can I stay at yours, I'm sure my dad's got the door locked by now."

"Course." Harry offers a comforting smile. He is no stranger to Zayn's sensitive side. The first time he'd seen him cry was when they were eleven, a memory he can still picture well enough to paint the scene on a canvas. The copper rust of his handlebars flaked in the summer sun as he dropped his bike onto the pavement. 'What'd you find?' When Zayn turned around, his eyes were red and wet. He stepped aside, revealing a lifeless pile of fur and blood. 'Someone ran over a dog.' Harry's heart had dropped into his stomach at the sight, but he held himself together and wrapped his arm around his friend, guiding him away. 'Why live, if we're just going to die?' Zayn had asked. Harry thought long and hard before replying 'Because we get to see life's beauty along the way.'

\--

They ascend the carpeted steps up to Harry's room, careful not to wake his mom or sister. It's all very routine, very normal. Wordlessly, they strip down into their boxers, and Zayn pulls out the mattress from beneath Harry's bed. They'd taken it from a neighbor's curb; even with a few mystery stains and sharp coils pressed up against the fabric, it's still better than the floor.

"Take the bed tonight, please?" Harry's pleading eyes cut through the darkness. 

"Nah, s'fine I'm good here, you take it." Zayn settles down, pulling a quilt up over his bony shoulders. 

It's calm for a while. Listening to the rhythmic sound of Harry's breathing, Zayn squeezes his eyes shut, but sleep never comes easy. Nothing comes easy. Not for him anyway, not the way it does for Harry. He'd always admired his friend's free spirit, his carefree attitude, it was as if he'd flipped ahead in the novel that was their life, read the ending, and could now take comfort in knowing that everything was going to be fine. He lived each day as if nothing could touch him, nothing could hurt him. Zayn wished he could be brave like Harry, but he was too afraid that their story would end in tragedy. 

His limbs feel heavy, his breathing laboured, there will be no sleep tonight. He frowns, knowing the skin beneath his eyes will be even darker tomorrow. It's been too long since he's had a proper rest, always kept awake by his thoughts, and he's sure he can't take one more night of it.

"Haz?" A hoarse croak escapes his throat. No reply.

"Hazza? Wake up."

"Mmm yeah what's up?" Eyes adjusted to the dark, Zayn can see a curly head pop up from the pillow. 

Zayn's pulse quickens, the way it always does when he's about to do anything apart from his mundane routine. "I know you're tired but... can we just talk for a little? Please?"

There is a rustle of blankets, and Harry slides down onto the mattress beside him. No questions asked.

"I've been thinking, " Harry begins in his usual night time whisper. "While Gems is home, I should ask her to give me some driving lessons." His statement is seemingly over, but Zayn picks up on the subtle tone and waits for him to continue. "She's had hers for five years now, she's a great driver. I really want to learn how."

"What will you be driving?" Zayn can't help his negativity. 

"I've been saving up a bit, if I up my shifts at the bakery I'll have almost a thousand dollars by graduation, and Liam's dad is selling his old cobalt, so maybe I can talk him into giving me a deal?"

Zayn doesn't see it working out, but he nods anyway. "That'd be cool." 

"Yeah, I just really want to get out of here, y'know? I mean it when I say we should take off. I'll go anywhere Z, anywhere you want."

Small gusts of warm breath can be felt against Zayn's cheek as Harry snuggles in closer. " _Anything_ you want." He adds quieter.

And Zayn knows. He's known for a long time, what he could have if he wasn't so damn scared. If he wasn't always pulling out of embraces and ruining precious moments with sarcasm. He can't help himself. Why live if you're just going to die?


	2. Chapter 2

Dry mulch crunches beneath their feet as the boys trace the warn path into the woods. It's hotter than usual for this time of year, they both feel it in the glistening sweat of their backs, but they continue on, thoughts of air conditioned living rooms long forgotten.

The brush thickens as they get deeper. Humming motors and honking horns can no longer penetrate the lush trees, leaving the air peaceful. Just when the trees and shrubs become so dense they can only maneuver them by their memorized zig zags...

It opens up. 

It's only a patch of unkempt grass, the span of a small house, partially surrounded by a wire fence, threatening to give in to the push of the forest branches. But yet, it's so much more.

Before, they'd sit and ponder for hours; why this magical spot existed. What had it once housed? Why was it empty now? But after years of excited theories and possibilities, they now only see it for what it is: an escape. Nobody can see them here, nobody can touch them here. It is the only time Zayn feels like he can truly breathe. That is, apart from the new anxiety he's beginning to feel around Harry. 

They sink into their respective lawn chairs, the ones they'd dragged there years ago, and share a collective sigh. It feels as if a weight has been lifted.

As usual, Harry is the first to break their silence. "Did you get on okay in English today? I heard your presentation on Catcher in the Rye blew everyone away."

"You heard that?" Zayn only lets himself believe it for a moment. "You're lying. People seemed bored, and I lost marks for going over the time limit. It was shit."

Zayn expects the usual rebuttal, the one Harry always gives when he puts himself down. It doesn't come though.

"If you say so Z." Harry leans back and closes his eyes. 

"If I say so?" Zayn sits up to study his friend's face. "The fuck?"

"What?" Harry opens one eye. "If you think it was shit, it probably was. You know better than me." Despite his best efforts, his lips twist into a half smile.

"Is that so?" Zayn chuckles. It feels nice. Warm. "Well _I_ heard your acting was so bad today Louis' sworn to never partner up with you again for a drama skit." His tone doesn't come across as playful as he intends.

"Really?" Harry sits up now, looking crushed. "I had a feeling..."

"No Haz, not really. I heard you did well actually. The next Johnny Depp someone said." Zayn offers a comforting grin. 

Harry bites his lip. "Okay good. I'd love to be an actor someday I think, like maybe do some really deep artsy films that you have to watch ten times to really get? I think I'd be good in those."

"You would." Zayn says fondly. Their eyes meet for a moment and it feels too intense, so he looks away.

"Maybe we could move to New York, or LA, that's where all the actors live I think. I don't know. Could probably live anywhere though. Have you decided what you want to do yet?" Harry's voice softens, the way it does when he tries to get Zayn to open up. Patience of a saint, that one. 

Zayn's throat burns, he should have brought water. "Dunno." He feels bad. He know's he's being closed off, it seems to be getting worse and worse, shutting out Harry more and more. 

"Yeah that's normal." Harry seems undeterred. "How can anyone know what they want to do at this age? There aren't many things I know for sure."

A few moments of silence, then Zayn realizes he needs to say _something_ so he doesn't come across like an asshole. Why is it so hard to talk to Harry lately? He clears his dry throat. "So uh, what _do_ you know for sure?" A light question, one almost begging to be asked. 

Harry suddenly turns and places his hands on Zayn's knees, heaviness in his voice as he drops a bomb that will rattle Zayn's sheltered existence. 

"I know for sure, with absolute certainty, that I love you."

Fuck. Shit. Fuck. 

Harry doesn't expect to have the gesture returned. He doesn't expect a response at all actually. He returns his hands to his own lap and reclines again, casually as if nothing had happened. "So, wanna swim in the lake after dinner? It'll feel great, seeing as how its a million degrees out."

"Uh yeah, sounds good." Zayn mutters. What just happened? He feels the moment slipping away, maybe it already has, but he wants to grab it, wants to catch it before it's too late...

"Fuck Haz, you can't just... you can't say those things, not like that."

"Like what?" Harry looks genuinely puzzled.

"All casual, like it's nothing. It's not _nothing_ to me alright? It's huge, it's fucking...it's _everything_."

Harry chews on his bottom lip as he thinks. His slow response is unnaturally torturous today. "It's not nothing Z, it's big, I get that."

"Then why did you say it?" Zayn demands.

"Cause I wanted to." Harry shrugs. "I meant it."

"I...I can't." Is all Zayn can manage.

Harry smiles. How does he smile so much, when everything is so heavy? "That's alright, I understand."

"You don't though." Zayn mumbles, but Harry's already continuing on about New York. It's too late.


	3. Chapter 3

Zayn riffles through the collection of crumpled napkins and takeout menus, until he finally finds a fork at the back of the drawer. It's got some dry crusty food caked between the prongs. Of course it does. He returns to the pan sizzling away on the stove, giving it a jiggle to agitate the browning potato slices. They're all stuck to the pan. This is why I'm so skinny, Zayn thinks to himself.

"Whatever you're cooking smells like shit." His dad calls out from the living room, voice thick with alcohol.

"Yup, thanks dad." Zayn returns. He gives the salt a vigorous shake in attempts to dislodge the granules from their formed clump. 

"Bring me another beer."

Zayn sighs, tossing the shaker aside and flipping off the stove. "Comin'."

In the living room, his dad is hunched over on the couch, an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips. "Move o'er, can't see the telly." He mumbles. 

Zayn places the bottle on the table. "I'm headin' out now, just gonna grab something from McD's."

When he's met with no reply, Zayn nods and heads for the door. 

"If you've got all this money for food maybe you should start pitchin' in for rent." Is the last thing he hears before he slams the door behind him.

\---

"Didn't think you were coming!" Harry grins as he ushers Zayn up the stairs to his room. "What took you so long?"

"Went for a walk." Zayn explains, though they both know that it's code for 'chain smoked until I didn't want to jump off a damn bridge'.

When they're safely hidden behind the closed door, Harry pulls him in for a hug. "Was worried I'd scared you off." He whispers. "So glad you're here."

It's so lighthearted and wonderful that Zayn doesn't know what to do with it. He lets his body relax into the embrace, lets Harry's familiar scent fill his tarred lungs. Wishes he smelled good like Harry.

"Can you stay over?" Harry asks as he eventually pulls away. 

The last thing Zayn wants to do is go home. "Yeah, sure." He replies casually. Always casually. Heaven forbid he seem too eager.

They play a few hours of Call of Duty on Harry's tiny television, mostly as a background activity to their conversations about the future. Led by Harry of course, always the dreamer. 

Then it's that dreaded time again, as the lights are switched off and their clothes are shed, Zayn dreads the silence. He dreads it badly. 

"You sure you're tired Haz? We could like, watch a movie or whatever'?"

Harry approaches him slowly, engulfed in the dark. "Can we try something?" His voice is soft but sure.

"Um, yeah?" Zayn feels himself being led towards the bed. "No mate, you take the bed, really."

"What if we both take it?" Harry lies down close to the wall, leaving just enough space beside him.

Zayn hesitates for a moment, but the bed is much softer, maybe he'll actually be able to drift off tonight.

So he climbs in, and they lay side by side.

"You're not yourself lately." Harry mutters in the darkness. "If something's wrong, you can tell me, you know that right?"

"I do, it's just that I don't quite know myself what's wrong." Zayn pulls the blanket up higher. He feels Harry wiggle his body closer, their bare torsos press together.

"Maybe if we talk it out, it will become clear." Harry offers, turning to his side. Zayn doesn't dare turn to face him.

"Please try?" Harry begs quietly.

Zayn takes a breath, trying to steady himself. "I uh, I feel anxious a lot. That's not new I guess, but like, I feel it all the time now. Even around you." _Especially_ around you...

Harry's chin presses against his shoulder. "How can I make you feel better?" 

"Dunno." Zayn's heart beats dangerously fast. He should tell Harry he loves him, this would be a good time to tell him. "I... I just, you know. I feel, like you feel...fuck."

"Look at me." Harry whispers.

It takes everything Zayn has to oblige. When he finally faces his friend, their faces are so close that he can see the green of Harry's eyes, even with the lights out. 

"Can I..." Harry trails off as he wraps an arm loosely around Zayn's waist. "Does this make you feel anxious?"

"Yeah but like, in a good way." 

Harry's arm grips tighter around him, and pulls them closer. "What about this? Is this okay?" 

"Still good. S' good Haz. Really good." Zayn leans into the touch.

"I love you Zayn." Harry's breath smells like Colgate. It smells inviting.

And Zayn would have said it back just then, if it wasn't for Harry leaning in and pressing his lips gently against Zayn's. His brain shuts down, goes into auto pilot, focusing on Harry's soft lips against his. He kisses back. He kisses back _hard_ , releasing everything he'd been holding onto for the years he'd watched Harry swim in the lake, wearing short yellow swim trunks. Watching Harry's face glow beneath the sunset, as they sipped sweet lemonade on the porch. Watching Harry, and _wanting_ Harry, but always feeling like he was just out of reach. Until now.

Zayn returns the embrace, feeling along Harry's broad back as a warm wet tongue gently caresses his bottom lip. He moans softly at the feeling. Tingles run down his body, and he's fairly sure this is the best thing he's ever felt in his life.

Harry's tongue eagerly enters Zayn's mouth, gently licking as they begin tasting each other. Mint meets smoke. Zayn would be self conscious, it wasn't for the way Harry was reacting, gripping onto him and kissing him deeper. 

Their breathing becomes loud, small noises of pleasure and desire mingling in the air. There's no stopping now. As their warm bodies press together, hands begin exploring, and Harry breaks the kiss. "I can't believe we're doing this." He says giddily. "Wanted to for ages, you have no idea how much. I hope this is okay, is it okay?"

"Kiss me again Haz." Zayn is surprised by the desperation in his voice. Grinning wildly, Harry leans in for more. He feels along Zayn's chest as they kiss, slowly lowering his hand until it's resting on his abdomen. He slips his pinky finger into the Zayn's briefs. Not wanting the kiss to end so Harry can ask another ridiculous question like 'is this okay?', Zayn takes the liberty to slip off his briefs entirely. His hardness now pressing against Harry's hand. This is a first. Not just with Harry, but with anyone, but he wants it. Especially as he feels Harry's large hand wrap around him, softer than his own calloused palm, and tentatively begin moving up and down.

Zayn _moans_. It's not planned, nor is it as sexy as the sounds he's heard in porn plenty of times, but it's real and it's involuntary. He wants to feel Harry too. So he fishes his hand down into Harry's tight briefs, his hand shaking with anticipation, and then he feels him. Harry is thick, thicker than Zayn, longer too, and very hard. A quick self assessment informs Zayn that he is definitely gay. Everything about this moment just works; Harry's lips, body, cock, are all perfect. 

Two short thrusts of Harry's hips serve as a reminder that Zayn is supposed to be moving his hand, so he does. Slow and steady, focusing on the head the way he likes. Their kisses become sloppy, interrupted by gasps and grunts as they pump each other beneath the covers. 

"We're gonna make each other orgasm." Harry whispers like it's a secret. His voice is strained with pleasure.

"Yeah Hazza, feels really fucking amazing." Zayn is close, probably only a few more strokes will do it. "Stop, let me catch you up."

Harry drops his hand and lets Zayn focus his attention on pleasuring him. He tilts his head back, groaning quietly so that nobody else can hear. "You're so good at this, if you keep it up I'm not gonna last much longer."

Zayn is too mesmerized to stop, he goes even faster, squeezing a little harder.

"I'm gonna.. oh fuck Zayn ohhh." Harry shudders with his release, shooting out onto their torsos. 

Zayn waits as Harry comes down from his high, his chest heaving up and down as a few last spurts shoot out onto his hand. He looks forward to Harry's soft hand stroking him again, but Harry makes no move to continue the hand job.

"Can I do something else? It will be even better than my hand." Harry shuffles his body down until his face is level with Zayn's erection. He presses his lips against it, then looks up through his eyelashes, waiting for a response.

"Yeah um... go for it."

It's too dark to see, but Zayn _feels_ as Harry takes him into his mouth. Whatever it is that he's doing, it feels incredible. Zayn wonders if he should question why Harry is so good at this. Another time. Because Zayn is seconds away from blowing his load right in Harry's mouth.

"Pull off babe." The pet name rolls off his tongue before he even realizes he's saying it. "Gonna..."

Harry just takes him in deeper, hallowing his cheeks as he sucks.

Zayn stifles a cry as he comes, followed by a small mantra of "Harry Hazza Haz", feeling every drop be sucked out of his pulsing cock.

Harry climbs back up to the pillow, a look of bliss on his face. "You taste great Z."

"I can't believe we just did that." Zayn's breathing fails to return to normal, he continues panting as he stares up at the ceiling. 

"You don't like, regret it do you?" Harry asks small.

Zayn shakes his head. "Of course not."

"Good." Harry snuggles in close, holding Zayn in his arms. " _Now_ I'm tired. Goodnight Z.

"Night Hazza." It's only when Harry's breathing evens out and it's certain that he's asleep when Zayn adds on "I love you."


	4. Chapter 4

 

Harry taps his mechanical pencil against the desk as he checks the clock _again_. Tap tap tap. Just twenty more minutes of Calculus, then he can meet up with Zayn for lunch. Twenty more minutes. It feels like an eternity.

"So you take your input and multiply by m, then add c. As a polynomial of the first degree, the graph is a slanted line..." Mr. Horan scribbles on the board in his messy handwriting. Harry had chosen a seat at the back of the class on his first day, but quickly discovered that he needed to be front row to take proper notes. Up at the front he can see that his teacher's black slacks and light blue Ralph Lauren button up are each a size or two too small.. 

Ill-fitting clothes straining with every move he makes, Mr. Horan continues on about linear functions, but Harry is finding it harder than usual to pay attention. Maybe because it's Monday, or maybe because he can't stop thinking of a certain brooding boy whom with he'd _finally_ crossed the barrier into being 'more than friends'.

Kissing Zayn is something Harry had fantasied about for _years_ , something he had thought about when he lied in bed before falling asleep, something he had exercised extreme self control in because Zayn had never seemed ready. Though Harry always knew he wasn't the only one with stronger feelings than friendship; he'd caught Zayn staring at him many times. Harry hopes that hidden feelings were the source of his friend's recent withdrawal from conversations. If he had been bottling up his feelings as well, perhaps it had begun to take a toll. Hopefully now that their affections for each other have surfaced, Zayn can let go of his apprehension and return to the bright eyed soul Harry had grown up with. The one who giggled as they climbed the tree in his backyard; palms burning red from the rough bark. The one who ran alongside him, their bare feed thudding on the wooden pier before they leaped off into the frigid water, squealing and splashing. The one he had spent many nights with beneath posters of motor bikes, moth eaten sheets and the moonlight, sharing hushed secrets until Zayn's dad shouted at them to go to sleep. The memories give Harry a rush of warmth throughout his body, and he can smell the phantom scent of _Zayn_.

When he checks the clock again, there are only five minutes left. Note to self, thinking about the one you love is a great way to pass time. Perhaps not in class though, as he looks down at the blank pages of his notebook. 

"Alright I'm passing back your test from last Friday, most of you did quite well." Mr. Horan walks down the aisle, returning papers with cheery red A's or B's adorned at the top. "Most of you anyway." He places Harry's test face down on the desk, definitely a bad sign. Sure enough, as Harry turns it over, he's met with an ominous F staring back at him. Well that's not good. Harry knew he hadn't done great, but he studied so hard, and at least expected a C. Ugh.

"Those of you who didn't do well, will have to really step it up on your finals." Mr. Horan looks directly at Harry as he speaks. "Feel free to come to me with any questions you may have." He adds with an arched brow.

The PA system begins playing Sia's Elastic Heart (Their principal thinks she's so edgy), releasing them from class, and Harry cannot _wait_ to get out of there. Seeing Zayn's beautiful face is the only thing that can cheer him up right now. He gathers his things sloppily into his arms and makes for the door, but a firm grasp on his arm holds him back.

"Wait a minute Styles, I need to talk to you."

"Sir, now's not a good time." Harry side eyes the passing students as they file out of the room.

"Take a seat." Mr. Horan replies, looking bored. "Maybe we can fix that bad test mark of yours."


	5. Chapter 5

 

The school cafeteria is especially crowded today, an unfortunate circumstance as Zayn hates 99% of his school mates and would prefer a table to himself. This is far from what he gets. Six over eager cheerleaders situate themselves around him, chatting and laughing as if he's not even there.

"He was totally checking you out, don't _even_." A tall brunette insists to her friend. "You should totally fuck him after prom."

This is why Zayn usually forgoes this entire scene in favor of thirty minutes of smoking in the back parking lot, but he and Harry agreed to meet here. Although it's now ten minutes into lunch with no sign of Harry who is usually not late for anything, strange.

Zayn plays over recent events in his mind as he drums his fingers on the table. Did he do something wrong? Does Harry regret it? They hadn't had much time to talk things over after 'the incident', as they had woken up late and had to rush to school. Woke up in bed. _Together._ Harry curled protectively around Zayn's small frame, his body warm and wonderful... 

The girls' chatter goes up an octave as they're joined by a group of jocks, and Zayn finds the whole scene disgustingly cliche. Had he eaten in the cafeteria on a regular basis, he'd know that the table he'd chosen is where the popular people always sit, hence the odd looks he'd been receiving since he sat down.

Where the fuck is Harry? Zayn clenches his jaw. This is torture. There are too many people, it's too loud, and he's beginning to really think that Harry wants nothing to do with him. There are so many variables that could have gone wrong, maybe he's a bad kisser? He's positive his breath smelled like a pack of cigarettes last night, yum. Or what if the hand job he gave Harry was shit? It's not like he's overly experienced in touching other people's dicks... But Harry said he _loves_ him. Except he said it _before_ their little under the covers sexcapade... fuck. This is all too much.

As Zayn gets up, a stocky guy with an unfortunate smattering of acne slides in to take his place beside the cheerleaders. Zayn makes his way out of the cafeteria and heads for the back doors that lead to the parking lot. Fuck love. Fuck Harry. He needs a smoke.

Once he's far enough away from the school, Zayn lights up and begins hastily smoking. One, two, three cigarettes and his nerves are still not calmed. All he can think about his Harry Harry Harry. Speaking of whom, with ten minutes of lunch period left, Zayn sees a familiar curly head bobbing above the shrubs, and then jogging across the concrete pavement.

"Z! M' so sorry!"

Once Harry is close enough, Zayn has to pause to take in his appearance. Swollen lips, rosy cheeks, mussed up hair... he's a beautiful mess. He stuffs his hands into his pockets looking sheepish. "I got caught up talking to Mr. Horan, didn't mean to keep you waiting."

"It's fine." Zayn lies curtly, taking a long drag. 

"Hey um, I know this is out of character but, wanna skip the rest of the day?" Harry bites his puffy lip as he waits for a response. He is really not himself today.

Zayn tosses his cigarette and hops off the boulder he's been sitting on, he doesn't need to be asked twice. His father had received many calls about his absence in class, this would be no surprise. "Wanna go to the spot?" 

"Yeah, perfect. Just want to get out of there." Harry starts walking quicker than usual, looking flustered.

"You ok Haz?" Zayn wonders if there is more on Harry's mind than last night's events.

"Of course, all good." Harry smiles.

"You sure?" Zayn presses. "How'd you do on your calculus test by the way?"

There's a jerk in Harry's step, like he's been struck by an invisible bat, but he continues on with that same smile. "I did great, got an A."


	6. Chapter 6

 

When they arrive at the clearing, Harry is visibly shaking. 

"C'mon Haz, just tell me what's wrong. Is it me? If you've changed your mind I understand, we can pretend it didn't happen or whatever..."

"No! That's not what I want at all!" Harry forgoes his lawn chair in favour of gathering Zayn into his arms. "I need you Z, please don't talk like that."

"Okay sorry." Zayn mutters, awkward in the hug. 

Though he is a few inches taller, Harry seems smaller than ever now, desperately clinging onto Zayn. "Need you." Harry says again.

"I'm not going anywhere." Zayn assures him, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist to return the affection. 

Harry only holds on tighter. "I'm sorry, I fucked up, I shouldn't have..." He pauses, sighing deeply. "Never mind."

"What?" Zayn pulls away to look into Harry's eyes, a difficult feat with the koala grip he's ensnared in. 

"Nothing." Harry plasters on one of his classic smiles. "I'm just so happy to be here with you. His hands trail down Zayn's back and grip onto the barely-there flesh of his hips.

Zayn knows he should ask more questions, he really does, but he's young and weak and full of lust for Harry. And now that he's had a taste, he wants more. He wants it now.

"We're all alone." He hints, hoping for Harry to take charge. "Nobody here to see or hear us, we can do whatever we want."

"Yeah?" Harry's eyes reveal a storm of emotions that Zayn can't quite sort out. Harry uses his grip to pull Zayn in closer until their groins are pressed together.

"Uh, yeah." Zayn mentally scolds himself for his current verbal ineptitude. He tries to think of something sexy to say, but it feels unnatural, so he speaks his mind instead. "You're so beautiful Harry." He allows his hand to raise, his fingers gracing Harry's flushed cheeks. "So fucking beautiful, I've always thought so."

Harry closes his eyes at the touch. "Always thought you were beautiful Z."

Everything about this moment is too intense, which is usually Zayn's cue to bail. Even now, his body is torn between wanting to latch onto Harry's, or flee as fast as possible. He wills himself to stay. He's allowed to want this.

"Haz, open your eyes." He says gently, watching Harry's eyelashes flutter open. "Kiss me again, yeah? Like last night." 

Harry leans in and presses soft kisses along Zayn's cheeks, nose, chin, everywhere but his lips. "Like this? This what you want?" 

Zayn can't wipe the boyish grin off his face. "Those are good but... kiss me somewhere else."

Now he's receiving loving pecks on his ears. What the fuck Harry. 

"Not there." Zayn laughs, feeling ticklish as Harry trails down to his neck. "Kiss me for real you idiot!"

 _Finally_ their lips meet and it's like a spark has been ignited inside of Zayn's stomach. Adrenaline rushes through him, fuelling him as he parts his lips and is graced by Harry's tongue in his mouth. 

Harry pushes Zayn backwards until he hits the fence, then proceeds to kiss him fiercely against it. Their hands can't settle on one spot. They're gripping onto clothing, slipping underneath, running along torsos and digging into skin. 

"Want you." Harry gasps between wet kisses down Zayn's neck. "Only want you. You you _you_." It sounds like he's talking more to himself than anything. "You want me too right Z?"

As if his desperate state didn't speak for itself, not to mention the erection straining in his pants, Zayn assures him he does. 

"You shouldn't." Harry's face is pressed into the crook of Zayn's neck and his voice comes out like a sob.

"Harry what? Of course I want you, you're all I think about." Zayn's words don't seem to calm him down.

"I only want to be with you." Harry reiterates, and Zayn thinks he gets it now. He's not Harry's first. He should have suspected, with Harry's perfection, that he'd have other offers and wouldn't wait until grade 12 to explore his sexuality, but it does still sting a bit. However, that shouldn't matter now and he'd rather not picture Harry with another guy if he doesn't have to.

"It's me and you now." Zayn utters against Harry's curls. "Nobody else matters. I don't care who else had you Hazza, I still want you, always will."

Harry sinks out of his embrace and collapses onto the grass. "Sorry I just... maybe not today, okay?"

"Yeah, anything you want." Zayn follows suit, sitting with his back against the fence. "Cm'ere though, I want to be close to you."

Biting his lip, Harry takes the spot next to Zayn, as close as humanly possible without sitting on his lap. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize." Zayn takes Harry's hand. "I want to hold hands with you, that's all I want to do right now."

They stay in that position, holding hands and nothing more. Harry is the quietest he's ever been, so Zayn fills the silence with whatever thoughts enter his mind. Some conspiracy theories, things he's read in books lately, his thoughts on life, and of course plans for the future, Harry's favorite topic. It's not until the mosquitoes begin biting their ankles that they haul themselves up to head home. 

"Can we stay at yours tonight?" Harry still sounds fragile. "I don't wanna deal with my mom yet, she's gonna be so disappointed in me for skipping school."

Zayn doesn't let go of his hand, even though it makes their venture through the dense woods extra challenging. "Yeah we can do that. Anything for you Hazza."


	7. Chapter 7

It begins raining as they walk home, but they don't walk any faster. Their clothing hangs heavy on their bodies and their hair drips mercilessly into their eyes, but for Harry it feels like his sins are being washed away. Almost.

Zayn lets go of Harry's hand as they turn onto his street, just in case his dad happens to be sitting by the window. Honestly, holding hands in public is dangerous enough, and had it not been for Harry's fragile state or the deserted sidewalks and distorting downpour, he wouldn't have dared to do it for this long.

"Harry's here with me." Zayn announces once they're in his cramped foyer, hoping it will keep his dad on his best behaviour. When they are met with no response, they head into Zayn's bedroom and close the door behind them.

Harry strips out of his sopping clothes as Zayn fiddles with the door lock. 

"I think it's busted, I dunno." Zayn mutters, his wet fingers slipping on the metal knob. He turns to see Harry standing fully naked in the middle of his room. "Oh you're...yup."

"I'm soaked all the way through." Harry shrugs as Zayn averts his eyes. "You can look." He adds. "Please look." He doesn't want to feel dirty anymore, wants Zayn's eyes to cleanse him.

Heart racing, Zayn slowly brings his gaze over Harry's body. Fuck, it's everything Zayn has ever dared to fantasize about. Tall and pale, but beginning to tone up, he still has the remnants of love handles but he's also got abs, how is that possible? And then there's his cock. Completely soft it's still impressively long. Zayn wants to know what it tastes like. Harry said not today though, so he's got to be patient.

"The lock is questionable, you should probably put some clothes on, I think the stuff on my bed is clean." Zayn gestures at the pile of laundry. Though his statement is true, his real motivation is covering up Harry's fit body so he won't be tempted.

\---

The sound of rain outside the window has always come as a comfort to Harry, and now that he is enveloped in Zayn's arms, in Zayn's room, in Zayn's world, he feels completely content.

Though the aesthetics probably wouldn't have that effect on most people. Black Flag and Dead Kennedys posters wouldn't put most people at ease. Stacks upon stacks of stolen library books and piles of black clothing wouldn't lift most people's spirits. The smell of smoke and the low hum of the TV coming from the living room wouldn't alleviate most people's stress. Yet despite the way everything seems a little faded, Zayn stands out like he's the only vibrant thing in a world of grey.

Harry snuggles in impossibly closer. "I always knew, you know?"

"Hmm?" Zayn strokes his fingers through Harry's curls.

"That you were the one. Always knew." Harry admits. "We've been best friends forever, it only made sense that we would end up together. Kind of like a fairy tale."

"Don't think they'd ever make a fairy tale out of our story. People don't get overly excited about a romance between two guys."

"They should." Harry pouts.

"Yes they should." Zayn kisses the top of Harry's head.

Harry smiles at the idea. "I could be your Rapunzel, waiting for my prince to come rescue me, save me from my depressing life, what do you think?"

"Your hair sure is growing at an unnaturally quick pace, I'd give it a month before you start using it to lure princes into your tower." Zayn jokes.

"Not prince _s_ Z, just one prince." Harry corrects.

Zayn bites his lip. "What if the one you chose is a dud?"

"What do you mean?" Harry frowns.

"Like, what if your prince isn't really a prince, just a low life teenager who has nothing to offer? What if instead of whisking you off into the sunset on a noble steed, your prince waits outside of your college campus, smoking cigarettes until you finish your classes because he didn't get in..."

Harry sits up to look at Zayn properly. There is a long pause before he speaks. "I never liked horses, I find them a bit stuck up. Wouldn't want to marry into royalty either, too many rules."

Zayn's face softens.

"Don't ever doubt yourself, you're everything I've ever wanted. Your mind is so magnificent, I want nothing more than to spend every moment I can deep in conversation with you. I would choose you over any prince." Harry professes. He wants Zayn to know just how special he is.

"How can I sleep when there is this big pile of mush on top of me?" Zayn teases to hide his fondness.

"And if I end up going to college-"

"You will." Zayn interrupts. 

" _If_ I decide that college is the right path for me, then we'll work it out. We always do. Remember when my mom sent me to summer camp and your dad wouldn't let you go? We thought our lives were over! But we wrote letters, snuck phone calls, and thought of each other every second of every day. Then when I finally came home, it was like I had never left, you know? Proper soul mates is what we are. Nothing can tear us apart." Harry adjusts himself so he's sitting on Zayn's lap, straddling him.

Zayn sits up so they're eye to eye, all wrapped up in each other. "I think that is when I first knew."

"Knew what?" Harry asks, absentmindedly nuzzling Zayn's neck with his nose.

"That I, you know, liked you as more than a friend. It didn't feel the same as when I missed my other mates. I'd never missed anyone like that before." Zayn confesses.

Harry trails his nose up to Zayn's, engaging him in an Eskimo kiss. He only gets in a few brushes of skin before Zayn leans in and captures his mouth, kissing him properly. They linger for a while, exploring the taste and feel of lips on their own, figuring out what feels best. They're both fairly inexperienced so there is a clumsiness to it, but to them it's flawless.

"Fuck this feels so good, doing this with you." Zayn sighs against Harry's lips. "Feels so right."

"I know, I feel it too." Harry says earnestly, but there is still a glimpse of something in his eye, something Zayn can't keep ignoring.

"What happened to you today? You seemed a little off." 

Harry shrugs. "Just stressed about school, nothing to get you worried about."

"I'm your..." Zayn stops himself. 

"Boyfriend?" Harry supplies.

Zayn tilts his head. "Am I?"

"Hopefully." Harry looks timid.

"Okay I'm your _boyfriend_ , that means you can tell me things, even when they're bad. I'll share the burden." 

Harry thinks for a moment. "I can't do that to you."

"Harry please..." 

"Run away with me Z."

Zayn sighs. "Don't change the subject."

"No I mean, for real. Like now. Or tomorrow? I can't wait anymore." Harry pleads.

"We can't, you know that." Zayn strokes Harry's cheek to soften the blow. "Our parents will freak out and come looking for us, it will be a mess."

"It's already a mess. You're the only thing that makes sense in my life." Harry is desperate now.

"You don't mean that, your life is perfect Harry. You have a mom and a sister who love you, a clean house that smells like detergent and isn't soaked in nicotine, you've got good grades and every teacher loves you..."

Harry breaks out into sobs. 

"What? What did I say?" Zayn wrinkles his brow. He doesn't understand what's happening.

"I did something bad Zayn. Something really bad. I'm so sorry."

"Whatever it is we can fix it, don't worry." Zayn assures him. He knows with absolute certainty that there is nothing Harry can do that he wouldn't forgive.

"It started off with just... I was so scared to fail, so scared to disappoint everyone, you know?" Harry retreats from Zayn's touch, crawling onto the bed as far away as he can. 

"No I don't, tell me what happened." Zayn insists, following him. His insides feel twisted, he doesn't like this.

Harry presses his face into the mattress and mutters something incoherent.

"Can't understand you babe, please..."

"I..." Harry lifts himself up, guided by Zayn's strong grip on his shoulders. It takes an eternity, but he finally makes eye contact, finally finds the words.

"I let Mr. Horan fuck me."

A loud clap of thunder sounds.

"You... I don't..." Zayn's body goes numb.

Harry tries to get the words out through the stream of tears. "I'm sorry. I failed my calculus test. I've failed every calculus test. The first time it was a hand job, it didn't seem like a big deal. But... but he kept asking for bigger favors, and if I said no he'd change all my other marks back and everything I did would have been for nothing! I don't know why I keep failing, I study really hard, I'm just stupid. Stupid for letting him take advantage of me. And I tried to stop it, I really did, I told him I didn't want to anymore, that I'd changed my mind, that I couldn't, but he held me down and... it hurt Z, it hurt _so_ bad. I'm so sorry."

Zayn feels like all the blood has been drained from his body. This can't be happening, not to Harry. Zayn can handle anything that comes at him; his mom's death, his father's abuse, his shitty life, bring it on. Just as long as nothing happens to Harry. Being struck by lightening is more inviting than seeing Harry hurt.

He grabs his shaking boyfriend and holds him tight against his chest, rocking back and forth. "It's okay, it's okay. It's going to be okay. I promise. You're not stupid, you're so smart. It's okay. I've got you."

"I'm damaged." Harry whimpers. "How can you touch me, how can you even look at me?"

"You're _perfect_ Harry, so perfect. That piece of shit laying his hands on you can't change that, you need to believe me." Zayn tries to assure him.

Harry's breathing is so rapid he's close to hyperventilation. "I don't want to see him again, I'm so ashamed. So disgusted with myself."

"He's never going to get near you again." Zayn says with absolute certainty. "Cause we're leaving tomorrow, and we're never coming back."


	8. Chapter 8

 

"What the fuck is this!?"

Harry opens his eyes, a little disoriented. He sees Zayn's dad hovering in the doorway, swaying as he speaks, drunk in his stained sleeveless shirt.

"You fucking faggots think you can do this shit in my house?"

Harry's vision is suddenly blocked as the comforter is thrown over his entire body. 

"Get the fuck out dad."

He feels Zayn's weight atop the blankets, covering him protectively.

"I didn't raise a faggot son, you get him out of here _now_."

"We're going, get away from him or I'll-"

"You'll what?"

There's sounds of a struggle as Zayn's weight shifts around painfully. 

"Could kill you with my bare hands boy, don't you ever think you're tough."

Harry hears a faint choking noise. He tries to wiggle free but Zayn's body is trapping him. He screams out, his lungs searching for air under the blankets, until there's a sputtering noise and Zayn starts coughing.

"If I ever see him here again, I'll kill you both."

The door slams.

Finally the weight is lifted and Harry climbs out of the blankets. "Z? Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

Zayn rubs his neck, it's already red from where his father's hands had been. "M' fine, you gotta get out of here. Go out the window, I'll meet up with you soon."

"Come with me now, we can go to the bus station, get on the first one we see." Harry pleads.

"There's something I've gotta do first, you trust me don't you?" Zayn places his hands on Harry's shoulders.

Harry hesitates, but finally agrees. "Of course I do."

Zayn nods. "Good. Now go before he comes back, he's piss drunk, doesn't know what he's doing."

"Be careful, please." Harry wraps his arms around Zayn's body. "If anything happens to you..."

"Nothing's gonna happen." Zayn assures him. "I'll meet you at the station in an hour. Say goodbye to your mum first maybe?"

"Yeah, okay." Harry holds on tighter.

"Go." Zayn insists, pulling away. "We'll be together again soon."

Harry sniffles back tears as he pushes open the window.

"Oh and Haz..." Zayn adds.

Harry stops and turns back around.

Zayn tousles a stray curl on Harry's face, wrapping it around his finger. "I love you so much."

\-----

Zayn approaches the school parking lot casually as ever. One foot in front of the other. Normal. It's much too warm for the leather jacket he's wearing, but he needs to stay covered up. Needs to stay concealed. His strides feel unnatural, and he keeps having to remind himself how to walk. Right foot, left foot. Right foot, left foot. Gotta seem like nothing's out of the ordinary, just a student crossing the staff parking lot. 

With a gun in his pocket.

He sees Mr. Horan's car pull in, and says a silent prayer thanking the God's above for such perfect timing. He watches as the tall blonde steps out his car. Piece of shit, Zayn thinks to himself. Coming back here like nothing happened. You don't just get to do that.

Mr. Horan's arms are full with folders and books. He fumbles with his keys, dropping them on the pavement. Zayn watches as he tries to squat down and pick them up, but his tight trousers prevent it, so he bends forward instead and consequentially drops one of his folders, sending the contents flying.

As he scurries around gathering up the papers, Zayn places his hand on the gun, still hidden in his jacket.

This is it. 

One shot. That's all it will take is one shot, and this man's life will be over. The one he doesn't deserve because he's stolen something precious from Harry.

The metal is hot and seems to have its own electricity as it waits in its leather cavity, waiting to be put to use. Zayn feels confident that he can make the shot; his dad has let him shoot this gun countless times in their backyard. He remembers when he was thirteen and his dad made him shoot the neighbors cat. It kept moseying into their yard and chewing up the plants. Zayn _begged_ him to change his mind, but his dad was firm. "Kill it or you're not a man." Zayn cried himself to sleep that night, the image of the poor orange tabby flailing around as Zayn had only managed to hit it's leg. He'd hated seeing it struggle. 

His fingers lace around, one fitting comfortably on the trigger as he takes a few steadying breaths. Mr. Horan has finally retrieved the last of his papers and is about to stand up. It's now or never. 

He pulls out the gun, aims with one eye closed the way he'd been taught, pointed right at his target's head, and pulls the trigger.


	9. Chapter 9

Harry shifts uncomfortably in his hard plastic seat. He plays with the fraying fibers on the knees of his jeans, watching the door as people come in and out of the bus station. Beside him sits a backpack filled with his belongings, the only belongings he now owns; a tee shirt, a hoodie, three pairs of underwear, a leather journal, a pair of sunglasses, a toothbrush and a photo album. He'd tried to fit in more clothing but his bag was already full so, this is it.

There is a television screen above the seats of the waiting area, silently playing a Macklemore music video, which Harry glances at occasionally, wondering if he will find such quality items when he buys a new wardrobe thrifting in their new city.

There are only twenty minutes left until the next bus leaves, and Harry really wants to be on it. He'd left a note behind for his family, informing them of his departure, one that his mom will probably find when she comes home for her lunch break.

Fifteen minutes left, ten minutes left, five minutes left... The bus has already pulled into the lot and people are beginning to file on. 

Harry dials Zayn's number on his phone, but is soon met with 'your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message system'.

That's when Taylor Swift's music video is interrupted by a breaking news story.

'School Shooting at Directional Public School' flashes across the screen on a bright red banner over live footage of students being evacuated.

Harry immediately whips out his phone again and texts Zayn.

 **Harry** : Zayn? Where are you??

 **Zayn** : Get on the bus 

**Harry** : Not without you, are you ok???

 **Zayn** : Trust me, just get on the bus. Now.

Harry grabs his bag, his phone and two bus tickets in hand, and reluctantly exits the bus station. He slowly ascends the steps, approaching the driver with pleading eyes. "Please don't leave yet."

"Take a seat honey." The middle aged woman says kindly. 

"Can you just wait like, ten minutes maybe? My uh, friend is running late but he will be here." Harry decides not to risk outing himself to the possibly non-understanding driver. "I have an extra ticket for him here, see?"

The lady takes both tickets. "I'll do my best honey, go sit and if he comes I've already got his ticket."

The bus is crowded, and Harry doesn't want to sit next to anyone so he heads to the back and chooses a spot with a huge tear in the seat. He stares out the window, feeling nauseated with worry. Distant sirens, mix with the casual chatter of the people on the bus, some of which are asking why they haven't left yet.

Seconds feel like minutes, minutes like hours as Harry shifts around in his seat scanning the lot around the bus. _Please don't leave yet please don't leave yet._ The torn leather scrapes against his bum as he does so, while nearby passengers watch him from the corner of there eyes, wondering what his problem is.

"Folks our departure is a little delayed today but I think we can still make it to New York City on time so don't stress." The driver announces over the speakers.

Harry's pulse races. _Shit._ The bus lurches as she starts the engine, and begins to pull out. Harry jumps out of his seat, prepared to demand to be let off, when he sees a familiar figure running out of the terminal.

"Wait!" Harry shouts in an embarrassingly shrill voice, but he doesn't care because it does the trick. There is a unanimous grown as the bus stops and opens its doors.

Harry can barely contain himself as he watches Zayn board the bus and head down the aisle. When he spots Harry his face softens with relief. 

"Where were you? I was worried sick! Did you see there was a shooting at our school?" Harry simultaneously shifts over towards the window to make space and attacks Zayn with a crushing hug and a parade of questions.

"Yeah I saw." Zayn's eyes are dark. He strips off his jacket, smelling of sweat, probably from running across town in black leather. Closing his eyes he leans into Harry's embrace. "Made it here just in time."

"But what happened?" Harry asks in disbelief, not understanding any of what's happening.

"Can we just...sit for a while?" Zayn requests before opening his eyes to see Harry frowning. "I'm sorry I just...I need a minute okay?"

Harry has a million more questions but bites his tongue. "Yeah okay."

For many miles the sit quietly, listening to the hum of the motor and breathing each other in. Eventually the suburbs begin to look more industrial; buildings become bigger and the air becomes heavier with smog. Road signs indicate that they are right outside the city.

"It was you wasn't it?" Harry finally breaks the silence. He feels Zayn nod against his shoulder.

"Mr. Horan?" Another nod.

"Did anyone see you?" Zayn shakes his head no.

Harry continues to stare out the window.

"We're free now." Zayn says softly, watching the surroundings turn grey. Harry takes his hand.

They've left everything behind; a blue neighborhood of judgmental people, stolen youth and now a murder.

As they look up at the tall buildings, it's everything they had ever dreamed of. 

Cross your fingers, here we go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would anyone like a part 2?


End file.
